Of Being Tired and the Decision to Live
by VVIPforSeungri
Summary: Damon is tired after getting off the phone with Elena and seeing Alaric waiting for him. - Takes place during the finale. - Completed


**Title: Of Being Tired (and the Decision to Live)**

**Author: VVIPforSeungri**

**Pairing: Delena**

**Summary: Damon is tired after getting off the phone with Elena and seeing Alaric standing waiting for him.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, the books, or the infuriatingly heartbreaking plot of a finale.**

**AN: Sorry if I'm formatting things wrong. I'm not used to posting on FF. This is set during the finale, so there are spoilers for "The Departed". TBH I was a sobbing wreck after - and during - the episode. This is the third time I've written for this fandom, but I just needed to write _something_ for this. Enjoy!**

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I'll tell you the truth—it crossed my mind.

Looking up into Alaric's angry eyes, I felt tired. So, so very tired. For a moment, I thought maybe it was a sign—a symptom that maybe Klaus hadn't been lying after all. But I knew, really, that it was nothing. I'd be fine.

At least, as fine as I could be, considering the circumstances. Ex-best-friend-turned-vampire-hunter standing in front of me. No one left waiting for me at home. My heart still burning at the pain; my head still trying to reject it.

So I was tired. Very tired.

And I'll tell you the truth—it crossed my mind. To just give it up already and die anyway. It wasn't the way I'd have preferred, but my choices were pretty limited and I wasn't exactly in the best state of mind.

So when Alaric landed the first blow, sending me sprawled onto the ground with a grunt of pain, it wasn't of retaliation that I was thinking of. Instead, it was of Elena.

Of course. It was always about Elena, wasn't it?

I thought about the way Elena had looked that first time I'd met her. And I'd met her – met her _first_. She'd looked different then, not the way she looked now. Aside from her astounding doppelganger resemblances, she'd looked innocent. Young. Naive. She'd looked like a fifteen year old who'd just slipped away from a party that undoubtedly hosted activities of the sort fifteen-year-olds weren't encouraged to participate in. Of course, that'd been exactly what she was. But it was nothing like the older, wiser, and hardened Elena that I had watched develop.

She'd been beautiful, even then. Even with Katherine's face, she'd been beautiful in a way Katherine was not. I thought about this as Alaric struck down viciously on my face and broke my nose.

And I'd done it, of course. I'd sidled up to her, smiling in a way I knew she'd never forget and never get used to. The smile I'd tricked millions of ladies prettier and more experienced than she with. I'd smirked at her and told her what she wanted when she asked.

Consuming love. Passion. Danger. Damon Personified.

I hadn't realized then that I'd already wanted to say _me_ instead. I did now, though, as I felt a kick knock the wind out of me as it collided solidly with my ribcage.

And then her parents had come. Just when I'd been about to capture the ever elusive Elena for myself, her damn parents had come calling and the spell I'd woven was broken. I'd seen it in her eyes—she was interested, but her interest was already fading rapidly.

Maybe I should have known back then that she'd never be mine anyway.

I hadn't thought that far ahead back then, though. Instead, I'd wiped her memory of me, planning to come back later to examine this particularly fascinating specimen.

I'd had other things on my mind then. Things like Stefan and the _real_ Katherine. So I'd let Elena go, getting in a car that would later go spinning off Wickery Bridge with her in it.

Wasn't it just so damn ironic that it would be Stefan, in the end, to pull her out of it?

She'd met me first. She _had._

Alaric landed another vicious kick to my side after pounding my face in. "What, not going to fight back?"

I was tired. I was tired of this – of feeling like no matter what I did, I'd never get my damn happy ending. Not like Stefan.

It was always Stefan, wasn't it?

So I answered, "You're sort of invincible, Ric." Like I'd given up. Because I sort of had.

The look on Ric's face as it twisted into disgust made me even more tired. What I really needed, right about now, was a nice stiff drink and my favourite drinking buddy sitting right along beside me. Of course, said drinking buddy didn't seem in the mood at present.

"Don't call me Ric," was all he uttered, getting ready to move in for the final attack.

And that was then when I decided not to give up.

Alaric, the one person in my miserable existence that had contented to put up with me, my one and only friend... wanted me worse than dead.

Andy, Rose. Women I could have found love with, women I could have healed with, women I could have been happy with... dead.

Elena, the girl I'd fallen in love with no matter how hard I'd tried not to, the girl who'd gotten away with spiting me and hating me, the girl I kept on loving regardless... had chosen my brother.

It wasn't that I didn't want to die.

I just didn't want to die _alone._

And so when the time came that Alaric's deadly white stake came out, I ignored the painfully raw edges in my heart that winced with every thought of Elena, and the aching tiredness I felt about diving back into a world that didn't seem to want me. I fought, fought for my life and for the right to be selfish just one more time.

I wasn't prepared, however, when my best friend suddenly slumped over in my arms. I wasn't prepared to watch him die with me right beside him – _again_. And I most certainly wasn't prepared to realize that Elena must have gone along with him.

Could it be that I'd found myself alone anyway?


End file.
